


You too

by captainhurricane



Series: Inspired by art [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Frotting, M/M, handjobs, what is this plot u speak of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just enough alone time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You too

**Author's Note:**

> insp. by [this pic](http://yumikoyuki.tumblr.com/post/150093970609/oh-my-god-my-thirst-is-real-i-have-made-the)

It had been one of the more peaceful mornings: no attacks, no distress signals and each Paladin had gotten their chance at doing what they do best. Eating, sparring, napping. Keith had chosen the training deck, had woken up with such bouncing, restless energy that only his Lion or the endless supply of the castle's training robots would ease it. 

So he dances with the robots all morning, beats another level and yet another. His muscles burn with exertion, his strands get stuck to his skin but still the energy pushes him, surging through his veins like a living creature. Shiro had found him there, waving once another robot vanishes from a strike of Keith's sword and Keith's eyes finally land on him. 

Instantly the electricity buzzing inside Keith changes.  
”You didn't eat breakfast with us so I figured you were here,” Shiro says and steps into the training hall. Keith tries to get his breathing back to control and makes his sword vanish with a flick of his wrist. 

”Wasn't hungry.” He shrugs. Doesn't look his companion in the eye. Shiro isn't like the others. All the others, even Keith himself- not that he'd admit it- are still kids. Shiro is something else.  
”You need to keep your strength up,” Shiro says and crosses his arms. His frown isn't deep but it's irritatingly patronizing. 

”I'm plenty strong without listening to you guys every second of my day,” Keith grumbles, shifts weight from one feet to another. When had it even started to be this hard to be around Shiro: to look him in the eye when Keith is sure Shiro knows what goes through all of their heads. Keith would prefer his own head to be kept private, none of the things inside it things he wants to share with others. 

Especially the way his skin warms up beside Shiro, especially with the way he had muffled his cries into his pillow as he jerked himself off when the mood hit. Mostly after he had ended up sharing the showers with Shiro: staring at that endless expanse of muscled back, scars clawed deep and white into tanned skin here and there. 

It's nothing, really. It's just admiration. It's natural to look. 

”Why are you avoiding me, Keith?” Shiro has stepped closer. And closer. Keith licks his lips, fans his face with his hand. Shrugs.  
”Not avoiding you, dude.” 

”I thought we were, uh,” Shiro starts, stops in front of Keith. Keith glances up and up at that tilted head and gentle face.  
”What?”  
”I've been looking at you too,” Shiro says then. Their eyes meet. Keith blinks, reaches and curls his fingers around the lapel of Shiro's jacket.  
”Oh, well,” is all Keith manages. He blinks, swallows hard. Lets his palm rest on Shiro's shirt, dark and thin under his opened jacket.  
”It's kinda hard not to look at you,” Keith murmurs, lets his fingertips trail a hint of firm muscle. 

Shiro chuckles; low and pleased, maybe even slightly bashful.  
”Have you seen yourself?” He asks and leans down for a kiss, mouth opening in a gasp when Keith presses himself closer, mind deep in every fantasy his mind had spurned since the day it had first pushed the thought of inappropriate feelings towards his fellow Paladin to the forefront.

*

All things considered, it is not the most raucous of mornings or chaotic of days but Keith could have spent it doing something worse. The training room floor is hard under his back, cold to his skin: bared from the waist down but it matters little when Shiro's mouth is on his, when Shiro's hand is around his dick. Shiro's soft, low groans keep spilling out as he thrusts down, their dicks rubbing against each other, against Shiro's prosthetic hand. Keith grabs a fistful of white and dark strands and keeps pulling and tugging, even reaches between their hot bodies to pull on Shiro's dick, earning himself a deep, low moan from Shiro. 

”One- uh-day-” Shiro murmurs between his noises, between their clumsy, hasty movements. ”I want to- sleep with you- properly-”  
”Shiro,” Keith says and it's not a whine, it's not a high-pitched noise, it's not. He barely recognizes his own voice: husky and low with arousal, his own noises fewer than Shiro's but louder than his.

Keith squirms, grabs Shiro's wrist and pulls his hand off their dicks. Brings the hand to his own lips and licks. It's Shiro's turn to moan his name brokenly, to thrust once more, twice before spilling between them.


End file.
